An agreement very likely could have been reached sooner if not for a group of 10 to 14 hard-line owners who aimed to shake extensive concessions out of the players—most notably by capping players' share of "basketball related income" (BRI) at 47 percent. In early November it was reported that this faction was being headed by the majority owner of the Charlotte Bobcats, Michael Jordan.

Yes, that Michael Jordan.

Although fans and players alike have registered their excitement for the return of basketball, the early media consensus is that the deal favors ownership. Aside from the league's failure to win a "hard salary cap" that would have placed a firm restriction on the amount teams could spend on players, among the few provisions in the new collective bargaining agreement (CBA) that actually benefits players is the requirement that teams must spend at least 85 percent of the salary cap from 2011-2013 and 90 percent of the cap in subsequent years of the deal.

But beyond that, the CBA does little more than fatten the owners' purses at the expense of the players. For instance, the central point of contention throughout negotiations was how Basketball Related Income (BRI) would be split between owners and players. The mark agreed on in the 2005 CBA was 57 percent for the players. Crying poverty, the owners called for and, after numerous failed negotiations, ultimately received a significant hike to their share of revenues: 51.15 percent for players for the 2011-2012 season and between 49 and 51 percent in later seasons. According to estimates, this will net the owners $3 billion over the course of the 10-year CBA. It may not be the 47-53 split that Jordan and his crew were aiming for, but overall, they must be happy with the deal they got.

Jordan's hard-line stance has raised eyebrows. Indeed, many young players who grew up idolizing Jordan the Player expressed their disappointment with this apparent betrayal by Jordan the Owner. Lakers forward Ron Artest—now known as "Metta World Peace"—took to Twitter to challenge Air Jordan to a game of one-on-one to settle the conflict once and for all. "Micheal [sic] Jordan I challenge you I'll spot you 20 and a bag of cheetos If I win end lockout Keep the cheetos," he tweeted (jokingly, one assumes, but with the Artist Formerly Known as Artest we can never be so sure).

Additionally, Jordan's Andrew Carnegie act has drawn him criticism from members of the sports media. Henry Abbott of ESPN.com called it a "flip-flop" while the always controversial Jason Whitlock of FoxSports.com was a bit more to the point, labeling Jordan a "sellout." He explains:

This is the ultimate betrayal. A league filled mostly with African-American young men who grew up wanting to be like Mike is finally getting to see just who Michael Jordan is. He's a cheap, stingy, mean-spirited, cut-throat, greedy, uncaring, disloyal slave to his own bottom line.

On its surface, the "betrayal" narrative makes plenty of sense. If any owner could be expected to understand and sympathize with the plight of the players in this conflict, it would be the man who was once a player himself—and a player who is on the record for being quite critical of ownership in the past, at that. In the midst of the 1998-1999 lockout, it was Michael Jordan who reportedly shouted "If you can't make a profit, you should sell your team" at Washington Wizards owner Abe Pollin during a negotiating session.

But the "betrayal" narrative falls apart upon closer inspection of the assumption that Jordan was ever on the side of the players to begin with. Whitlock hints at it when he calls Jordan a "disloyal slave to his own bottom line." And this has always been the case. Jordan the brand—and as the namesake of an entire subdivision of Nike, he is quite literally a brand—and Jordan the public figure are fundamentally inseparable. He has proven repeatedly that there is no social issue uncontroversial enough to risk a dime of his empire taking a stand on, all the while lending his name and likeness to virtually any company that would pay up.

When the company first became the target of activist ire, Jordan said it wasn't his problem. Then, in 1997, he changed his tune. "I'm hearing a lot of different sides to the issue," Jordan told the Sporting News. "The best thing I can do is go to Asia (in July) and see it for myself. If there are issues ... if it's an issue of slavery or sweatshops, [Nike executives] have to revise the situation." Yet even after acknowledging the specter of "slavery," Jordan never made the trip.

And of course, who could forget his refusal to publicly back Democratic candidate Harvey Gantt in the 1990 North Carolina Senate race? Gantt—an African American—was running against the arch conservative incumbent, Jesse Helms, notorious for his staunchly anti-civil rights views and for once leading a 16-day filibuster against a federal holiday in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. Helms was also known for referring to the University of North Carolina—Jordan's alma mater—as the "University of Negroes and Communists." Locked in a close race, Gantt cleverly requested an endorsement from the hometown hero, but Jordan declined, stating famously "Republicans buy sneakers too." Gantt lost by just five percent.

This remark has come to characterize Jordan's disinterest in standing up for anything but the zeroes in his bank account. It also illustrates the folly of expecting Jordan to have taken the side of any group but the hard-liners in this year's labor negotiations.

From this perspective, Jordan's move from taking a hard-line stance against the owners in 1998 to taking a hard-line stance against the players in 2011 cannot be thought of as a betrayal. Rather, it demonstrates his steadfast loyalty to the "pay me" principle.